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Authors: Edward Marston

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical

The Parliament House (24 page)

BOOK: The Parliament House
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    'Only that its author should be burned at the stake.'

    'You've heard of it, then?'

    'It was the talk of the coffee houses for weeks. Ninian Teale even got hold of a copy. He said that it was the most treasonable piece of prose he'd ever seen. A scurrilous essay, penned by a frothing dissident.'

    'Did he know who wrote it?'

    'No,' said Henry, 'and that's what made it so maddening. It was a cruel attack on His Majesty by someone who lacked the courage to put his name to such mutinous opinions.'

    'The pamphlet achieved its aim, then. It caused an uproar.'

    'Ninian Teale wanted the author to be weighted down with stones and dropped in the deepest part of the Thames. And he was not the only one moved to thoughts of revenge. All civilised men were affronted. Had they caught the wretch, they'd have disembowelled him.'

    'Who was most outraged by the pamphlet, Henry?'

    'That's difficult to say.'

    'Ninian Teale?'

    'Oh, no. There were several people more incensed than he.'

    'Such as?'

    Henry scratched his head again. His lips moved as he mumbled to himself a list of possible names. A light finally came into his eyes and he slapped his thigh with finality.

    'Cuthbert!' he declared.

    'Cuthbert?'

    'The Earl of Stoneleigh,' said Henry. 'I remember the anger with which he spoke about that pamphlet. I shared a box with him at the theatre one day. Cuthbert spent a whole hour, devising horrible deaths for the man who wrote those heretical
Observations'

    Christopher was curious. 'Did the earl ever see military action?'

    'See it? I should think so. Cuthbert had his own regiment. One of the suggestions he made in the theatre that day was to have the author of that pamphlet tied to two stallions so that he'd be torn asunder when they were whipped into gallop.' Henry gave a harsh laugh. 'But on consideration, he thought that too mild a punishment.'

    'Too
mild
?'

    'Cuthbert has a vengeful streak. But let's put him aside,' said Henry. 'I want to talk about a vision of loveliness. How can you bring me to Brilliana's side?'

    'I'll do everything I can to keep you away from it, Henry.'

    'What sort of repayment is that?'

    'The best kind. I'm saving you from humiliation.'

    'I want her, Brilliana wants me. Where's the humiliation in that?'

    'You misunderstood the lady.'

    'No man could misunderstand the glances she darted at me.'

    'Brilliana is married.'

    'Her husband is my gateway to ecstasy,' said Henry, rubbing his hands. 'Lancelot Serle has ambitions to enter parliament and to consort with His Majesty. I'm in a position to assist him in both of those endeavours - at a price.'

    'To extract it from his wife would be dishonourable.'

    'What place has honour in a love affair?'

    'Henry!'

    'The match is made. Brilliana sealed it with a smile.'

    'I know that you've stolen quietly into a marital bed before,' said Christopher, 'and I accept that no amount of finger-wagging from me will ever make you abandon such lascivious escapades, but your interest has alighted on the wrong person this time. Look elsewhere, Henry.'

    'How can I when I know that Brilliana is waiting for me?'

    'The only thing she is waiting for is the capture of the men who are plotting her father's murder. Once that's been achieved, she will return to domestic harmony in Richmond.'

    'Then I'll visit her there.'

    'Her husband would not allow it.'

    'He'll be too busy in London, distracted by certain friends of mine who'll instruct him in the best way to pursue a political career. While Mr Serle is being educated in the city, I'll tutor Mrs Serle in the country.'

    'You'll do nothing of the kind.'

    'I will,' said Henry, grinning wolfishly. 'And I have the right to call on you for some brotherly assistance in my wooing.'

    'It falls on deaf ears.'

    'Will you at least carry a message to Brilliana?'

    'Not unless it be a promise to stay out of her way.'

    'She pines for me as I pine for her.'

    'Henry, you only met her once.'

    'Once is enough. Within seconds, I was enraptured.'

    'Pure fancy.'

    'I was, Christopher. When did you take an interest in her sister? Was it after a week of knowing her, a fortnight, a month, a year? No,' said Henry, confidently, 'I'll wager that it was the
first
time you set eyes on Susan. Am I right?'

    'Yes,' admitted Christopher. 'It was.'

    'There you are. We were jointly enthralled in an instant.'

    'It's a false comparison. Brilliana is married, Susan is not.'

    'A trifling detail.'

    'It's the one that will keep you at bay, Henry. If you really care for Brilliana, you would not trample on her happiness.'

    'I seek only to increase it.'

    'By forcing your unsought attentions upon her?'

    'By showing her that at least one member of the Redmayne family has the courage to follow his heart. You've been walking in circles around Susan for an eternity without getting any closer to her.'

    'We have an understanding.'

    'So do Brilliana and I,' said Henry, rolling her name around his mouth as if it were a delicious sweetmeat. 'We understand that love is but a brief prologue to consummation. She will soon be
mine.'

    

    

    The evening got off to an uneasy start. Arriving by carriage at the house, the visitors were conducted into the parlour. Dorothy Kitson was wearing a beautiful ruby-coloured dress with a bone- fronted bodice and a looped skirt. Puffed and slashed, the elbow sleeves were finished with a row of ribbon loops. Bows adorned the front of the bodice. Her hair was puffed above the ears and held away from her cheeks by concealed wires. She looked poised and handsome. Her brother, by contrast, wearing a serviceable black suit and sporting the periwig that he used as a justice of the peace, was ill at ease and seemed rather dowdy beside her.

    Introductions were made and everyone sat down. Susan Cheever was wearing an elegant new dress but it was her sister who had gone to elaborate lengths with her appearance. Serle, too, in a suit of blue velvet, had taken time with his preparation. Sir Julius was oddly uncomfortable, a nervous host who was desperately hoping that his daughters would approve of Dorothy and, by the same token, that she would like them. The grim, judicial expression on Orlando Gotland's face suggested that no approbation would ever come from him.

    There was a long and very awkward pause. Even Sir Julius was at a loss for words. Sitting in a circle, they all waited for someone to speak. Into the void stepped Brilliana Serle.

    'Have you known Father long, Mrs Kitson?' she asked.

    'A matter of weeks, that's all,' replied Dorothy.

    'Over a month,' corrected Sir Julius, softly. 'But I feel that I've known you so much longer.'

    'Yes, I feel that as well.'

    'The acquaintance is still very new,' said Golland, implying that it should proceed at a slow pace. 'I was there when my sister and Sir Julius first met. It was at Newmarket.'

    'I understand that you own racehorses,' said Serle.

    'It's my one weakness.'

    'I don't think that an interest in horses is a sign of weakness, Mr Golland. Horses are the most superb creatures. I've seven in my own stables, though only one competes in races. How many do you have?'

    'Three at the moment but I'm negotiating for a fourth.'

    'How did you first get involved in the sport?'

    Series curiosity had two important results. It not only brought a whisper of a smile to Golland's face, it detached him from the general conversation and allowed the other four to begin a separate dialogue. Serle was a keen horseman and a frequent visitor to races. He and the magistrate were soon discussing the finer points of rearing and riding thoroughbreds. Susan, meanwhile, impressed by Dorothy Kitson's demeanour, made an effort to be friendly towards her.

    'Father has told us so little about you,' she said. 'He's been hiding you away like a secret horde of gold.'

    'That's exactly what she is,' said Sir Julius, stiffly. 'A human treasure chest. Dorothy - Mrs Kitson, that is - has enriched my life in every way and I am deeply grateful.'

    'We can understand why now that we've met her.'

    'Yes,' said Brilliana. 'You are nothing at all as we pictured you, Mrs Kitson. We expected someone rather older.'

    Dorothy smiled. 'I'm not in the first flush of youth, Mrs Serle.'

    'Father did not describe you with any accuracy.'

    'Really?'

    'Words could never do you full justice,' said Sir Julius.

    'You are too kind.'

    'We look upon you as a benign sorceress,' Brilliana told her.

    'A sorceress?'

    'You've cast such a wondrous spell upon Father. Instead of ranting and raving at us-'

    Sir Julius frowned. 'I never rant and rave.'

    '-he's been the soul of affability. Don't you agree, Susan?'

    'Your effect on Father has been truly astonishing, Mrs Kitson,' said Susan, looking fondly at Sir Julius. 'He's been transformed. The shame of it is that you've come into his life at such a troublesome moment.'

    'Yes,' said Dorothy, sadly. 'I heard about the attack on him. It's a miracle that he survived. You were brave to travel without a bodyguard, Sir Julius, but I hope that you will be not display such bravery again. In the eyes of those that care for you, it's akin to folly.'

    'For your sake,' he promised, 'I will exercise the utmost caution.'

    'I'll hold you to that.'

    'And so will we, Father,' said Susan.

    Brilliana nodded. 'We could not bear to lose you.'

    'I intend to be here for a long time yet,' he told them. 'When a man has so much to live for, he'll make sure that premature death is kept at arm's length.' He winked at his elder daughter. 'You'll have to continue to endure my ranting and raving, Brilliana.'

    'Mrs Kitson has cured you of it.'

    'Not when I enter parliament,' he confessed. 'I am as choleric as ever there. I was so sorely pressed today that I could not help but rant and rave at Maurice Farwell.'

    'Maurice?' said Dorothy, ears pricking up. 'How did he arouse your ire, Sir Julius?'

    'By trouncing me in debate.'

    'He rarely loses an argument.'

    'That's what I've discovered.'

    Adele, his wife, tells me that he's the most mild-mannered man at home. In the House of Commons, clearly, he's a very different person.'

    'He's as slippery as an eel,' snapped Sir Julius. On reflection, he summoned up a forgiving smile. 'No, give the man his due. He's an adroit politician with the gift of rhetoric. I have to be on my mettle to best him in argument. Every blow I try to land seems to miss him.'

    'Father, this is hardly the time for political discussion,' warned Susan. 'You are not in the Parliament House now.' 'Yes,' said Dorothy. 'It's a subject about which I know nothing.'

    'Then I'll not bore you with it,' vowed Sir Julius, graciously. 'Especially as we have so many other things to talk about.'

    'I'd like to know more about your lovely daughters.'

    'I'll tell you about Susan,' offered Brilliana, 'then she can tell you about me. Not that you should believe a word she says, mind you. Younger sisters never appreciate the problems and responsibilities that an elder sibling has to face.'

    'You talk of nothing else,' said Susan.

    'You see? She contradicts me all the time.'

    'I deny that, Brilliana. Be more just, please. We don't wish to give Mrs Kitson the wrong impression.'

    Dorothy smiled. 'My impression is that your father is blessed in his daughters. He's told me what a comfort you've been at this difficult time. I can see why he's immensely proud of you both.'

    Susan and Brilliana were touched. They turned to their father with gratitude but Sir Julius was not even looking at them. A beatific smile covering his face, he was gazing intently at Dorothy Kitson.

    

    

    Christopher Redmayne was not entirely convinced by the evidence. After studying one of the notes found on the body of the dead man, he shook his head.

    'I think it's just a coincidence, Jonathan,' he said.

BOOK: The Parliament House
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